Perfect Match?
by Lily Beth O'Connor
Summary: Neville Longbottom is now a professor at Hogwarts, and as all around him his friends marry and settle down, he wonders if he will ever find the right person for him.. Then he meets Hannah... Again. Post Deathly Hallows.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One - Plant Perfection**

"Do you see it?" Neville Longbottom asked his pupils, marvelling at the perfect leafy green leaves that sprouted out of the mandrake pots. "Beautiful."

His first year pupils exchanged glances, not yet used to the slight eccentricity of their professor. Neville sighed, and the sigh was happy.

"Do you know, this is the first time Hogwarts has had madrakes since I was twelve? Now isn't that incredible?"

The class began to whisper, and Neville heard someone say "_Chamber of Secrets_". Suddenly all eyes shifted to Albus Potter who was suddenly very interested in his mandrake.

Neville attempted to take the spotlight off Albus. "For homework, I want you all to write a short essay on the mandrake. I know we haven't done much work on them yet, but it will be interesting to see what you come up with."

Most of the students groaned, and their groans became more obvious as Rose Weasley's hand flew into the air.

"How short?" She asked, and Neville smiled as he noticed the resemblance between her and her mother.

"A half of a scroll of parchment will be sufficient, Rose," He said, still smiling at her. She grinned back.

"First week here and we've already got homework," Neville heard a small dark haired boy mutter, and he smiled, enjoying the behaviour of the eleven year olds.

As the students began to leave the greenhouse, young Albus Potter hovered next to the mandrake he'd been inspecting.

"Professor -"

"You know you can call me Neville when the other students aren't around, Al," Neville said to his godson.

"Neville, then." Albus said, and he smiled.

Neville didn't say anything, he just waited for Albus to reply. Al was shy, and needed his time.

"Mum said I have to send you love," Al said, and he visibly cringed. "James wouldn't do it, so I said I would."

Neville smiled and patted Al's shoulder. "Thanks Al. You pass on the same message for me in your next letter, won't you?"

Albus nodded, smiling, and Neville once again noticed the startling resemblance between him and Harry. It was like looking at eleven year old Harry Potter all over again, except his nose was more Ginny than Harry.

"Everything going okay for you, Al?"

Al shrugged. "I like it here. I miss Mum and Dad a bit, but it's okay. And I'm glad I have Rose. James is just _annoying_."

Neville laughed. Over the years, Neville had noticed that James Potter possessed a nature similar to that of Fred or George Weasley. Neville sighed then as his memory flashed back to the evening when Fred had died, and a little twinge of sadness pierced his heart.

"You'll be late for lunch, Al," Neville said, and Albus nodded, picking up his schoolbag. "Come on, I'll walk up with you."

Together, they walked up to the castle.

* * *

Later that evening, Neville sat in the staff room going over his notes for his sixth years.

The staff room door swung open and Professor McGonagall stepped in. Neville cringed inside as he greeted her - even after three years of teaching at Hogwarts, he was still intimidated by his old Transfiguration teacher.

"Good evening, Neville," She said crisply, conjuring herself a cup of tea. "Would you like a cup?"

"Yes, please, Minerva." Again, and internal shudder. It was so weird to be addressing her as _Minerva. _

She handed him the cup of hot liquid and sat in her regular chair next to the fire.

Neville felt slightly worried as he watched her, her grey hair scraped neatly into her regular bun at the back of her head. She was so old now.

"Something wrong, Neville?" She asked sharply, catching him staring.

He blushed as if he was twelve again. "No, no, nothing wrong."

She nodded curtly and returned to her work. Gradually the staff room began to fill up as more of the professors returned from dinner.

The door opened once again and Neville shuddered as Argus Filch entered. He hated the man with a passion. Neville couldn't believe he was actually still alive. Because Neville was a professor now, Filch treated him with a little more respect, but Neville had caught him glaring at him more than once.

Filch was followed by his cat, Lucy. Mrs Norris had died years ago, Neville had heard, and after almost ten years of mourning, Filch finally managed to find a cat as horrible as the one he had had during Neville's school days.

After sitting in the staff room long enough to finish correcting essays and planning classes, Neville finally left the staff room.

He checked the Gryffindor Common Room (as head of house is was his duty to do so) and found the common room in a state of calm, almost emptied except for a couple of students lounging in front of the fire.

Then he went to his bedroom, a small chamber that was entered through the door in his office.

Neville sat on his four poster bed, one that was not unlike the one he had slept in during his years at Hogwarts, and mulled things over. He picked up the photograph album that was under his bed, and began to flick through it. The first picture he came across was Harry and Ginny's wedding. Harry was dressed smartly in a suit, and Ginny in a white dress. Ron was standing next to Harry as best man, with Neville next to him as groomsman. Hermione was Ginny's only bridesmaid. They all smiled and waved up at Neville, who smiled back before turning the page. The next picture was Ron and Hermione's wedding, and this one really made Neville smile. It was still hard for him to believe that after all the years of bickering, Ron and Hermione had ended up married. This was more of a group photograph, with almost all the wedding guests in the picture. Neville laughed when he saw Luna Lovegood, dressed crazily in her robes of egg-yolk yellow, waving at the camera. Loony Lovegood. Harry and Ginny were in this picture too, and Ginny's stomach was perfectly rounded with James. Neville sighed as he flicked through the album. When he finally turned off the light, he couldn't sleep.

* * *

**I wrote this story as an experiment. I've never written anything for Harry Potter before… do you think I should continue? It will inevitably be a love story.. All my readers know I love them!Please review and tell me what you think. If you like it, I will continue.**

**Lily x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two -**

**H**annah Abbott sighed as she prepared herself for the weekly visit to her father's house. It wasn't that she _dreaded _it exactly… it just wasn't her favourite time of the week. She would much prefer to stay at home, in her tiny apartment over Eeylops Owl Emporium on Diagon Alley.

She loved her apartment. She loved the tiny living room and kitchen, and her small bedroom. She loved her little art studio (the spare bedroom, really), that smelled of paint and turpentine. She loved the iron balcony where she would sit on her evenings off, people watching, and listening to the squawks of birds coming from the shop below. If she saw an interesting person, she would paint them.

Every person on Diagon Alley knew Hannah as the happy-go-lucky barmaid at the Leaky Cauldron, or as the girl who painted "pretty pictures". She was well known and loved for her warm nature and cheerful smile.

If only her father was so understanding.

Hannah stood in the mirror in her bedroom, inspecting herself for the last time. Her longish blonde hair was down around her shoulders, neatly brushed. She tugged at her irritating full fringe and wished for the one hundredth time that it would hurry up and grow out. She could have fixed it with magic of course, but she just didn't trust herself. She glanced at her pale green dress, and made sure that her wand was tucked into her bag. She checked that she had the box of Honeydukes Finest Chocolates that she always brought, and then realized with a sigh that it was time to go.

She left her bedroom and walked over to the little red brick fireplace in her living room. It was far too small to use as a Floo port, but she kept her little snuff box of Floo powder there anyway, behind the old clock she had picked up cheap at a market in Belgium. It squealed something in French at her, and in spite of her dread, she smiled.

Hannah left her apartment without even bothering to lock it. Nobody locked their doors since the downfall of… _Voldemort. _She shuddered slightly as she thought his name. It was still hard for wizarding folk to speak of the evil wizard who had killed so many people - muggles and magic. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered being pulled out of school in her sixth year, after her mother was murdered by cold blooded Death Eaters.

As Hannah walked down Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron, she could help but smile. Evening light flooded the alley, and the air was full of the happy sounds of playing children, and the soft hum of late shoppers. She passed Weasley Wizard Wheezes, which was closed. The hugely successful shop had put poor Gamble and Japes out of business.

She smiled at the memory of the Weasley twins' attempts at lightening everybody's mood at such a dark time of their lives. The door was still open, and Hannah spotted the back of George Weasley as he stocked shelves in the shop. Little Roxanne Weasley was sitting on the step in front of the shop, playing with somebody's wand. She giggled as she made sparks emit from the end, and looked startled when Angelina, her mother, snatched it from her.

Hannah waved to Angelina, but didn't stop. She didn't know the Weasley's that well - after all, they hadn't been in her house at school, and apart from Ron, none of them had been in her year. But as the barmaid at the Leaky Cauldron, Hannah knew almost everyone.

Tom, the old landlord of the Leaky Cauldron waved at Hannah as she came in.

"Visiting your father tonight, Hannah?" Tom enquired as he rubbed the bar with a rag.

Hannah nodded, her smile tense.

"Give him my best, then."

"Thanks, Tom." Hannah said. Tom offered greetings every time Hannah visited her father, but Hannah never gave them to him. On the couple of occasions that Mr Abbott and Tom had met, Hannah's father had been unbearably rude.

"Abbott Cottage, Honeysuckle Lane, Ambleside, the Lake District," Hannah said clearly, before stepping into the emerald flames.

"Hannah!" She heard a voice say as she stumbled out of the fireplace. "Sweetheart."

A moment later, before she'd even managed to regain her balance or see clearly, she was pulled into a hug. She inhaled the scent of pipe tobacco, peppermint, and weed killer - all in all, the scent of her father.

"Dad, hi!" She said, pulling away from him and kissing him on the cheek.

"Give me another hug," He said warmly. "It's been so long."

"Not even two weeks, Dad," She muttered. "Not that long."

"Well, it seems like a long time to an old man."

"Sixty-three isn't old!"

"Feels old to me!"

Hannah laughed and rolled her eyes. She handed her dad the box of chocolates (his eyes lit up - he _loved _Honeydukes chocolate) and ambled into the kitchen.

"Dad, don't you _ever _go shopping?" She asked, exasperated, as she opened the bare cupboards in the tiny kitchen. "It's a wonder you don't starve to death."

Her dad crossed his arms defensively. "I do alright on my own, Hannah Katherine Abbott. I don't need you to boss me around."

She held up her hands. "Alright, alright."

"What's for dinner?"

She sighed as she inspected the fridge. "The only edible thing you have here is a packet of chops."

"Chops it is!" Her dad said, clapping his hands. "The September veggies are up. They're out in the shed, I'll get them. What do you need?"

"Carrots, broccoli and potatoes," Hannah said with a sigh. Her father (who was a horticulturist, and insisted that he only ate natural, home-grown vegetables) headed out to the shed.

Hannah loved her father, she really did. She just found it so hard to look after him all the time. Her brother, Jack, lived in Australia with his Irish girlfriend, Katie, and though she was furious at him for practically abandoning her and their father, she was insanely jealous of him too. He got to live his own life out there in Australia. He was a Healer in a small, all magic town in the middle of the outback somewhere.

"How're things at work?" William Abbott questioned his daughter as she opened a packet of lamb chops with her wand and lift them on a frying pan. He watched with interest. Magic never failed to amaze him.

Hannah shrugged. She knew her father didn't approve of her working in a pub, but she loved her job.

"It's fine. Bit quieter now that all the kids are back in Hogwarts."

"But wouldn't that make it busier? With parents having more freedom?"

"Well, the evenings are busier I suppose." With a wave of her wand, Hannah set the small kitchen table. Her father ducked dramatically as knives and forks lurched themselves out of drawers and settled neatly on the table.

"You should be used to it by now," She said reproachfully, chopping carrots and boiling them with the broccoli.

"What, magic? Hannah, my dear, I lived with your mother for almost twenty years, and I'm still not used to it."

Hannah's eyes began to prickle uncomfortably at the mention of her mother, as always.

"You been down to the grave recently?" Her Dad enquired.

Hannah swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat and shrugged. "Couple of weeks ago."

She was a liar. She hadn't visited the grave in years.

Her father looked at her. She shifted uncomfortably.

"You want gravy?" She asked, trying to change the subject. Her father's eyes were narrowed as though he didn't want to let the subject go, but he did.

"Smells great!" A loud voice carried through the house, and Hannah shoved her wand out of sight.

"'Lo, Cal," William said as his nephew entered the kitchen.

"Hey, Wil - Hannah!"

Hannah grinned as her cousin moved into the kitchen and hugged her.

"How're you getting on up in London?" Cal asked as he pulled up a chair.

"Not too bad," Hannah shrugged. Cal knew about Hannah being a witch, though she rarely performed magic in front of him.

William Abbott sighed as he watched his daughter cooking and chattering away to her cousin. He hadn't ever wanted this for her. This… this half life. Working in London and rushing back to him every second she got. He wanted her to find someone, to settle down. She hadn't been the same since her mother had died, though it had been twenty years since it had happened. And Hannah wasn't getting any younger, either.

William knew that witches and wizards had longer life spans than the average "Muggle", but (and he cringed as this thought ran through his head) he didn't know if the same rule applied to witches and wizards having children. William wanted grandchildren, of course he did. Jack would eventually have kids, but he lived in _Australia_, for heavens sake. And he didn't want Hannah to get too old to have kids before she met anyone.

"Dad?" Hannah waved her hand in front of his face as she placed a plate of food in front of him. The smell of turpentine and jasmine soap filled his nostrils, and he was glad to know that she still painted.

"Sorry, love. It looks delicious."

She gave Cal a plate of food too, and then set her own (meat free) plate of food on the table.

William smiled at her vegetable-full plate. Hannah had decided to become a vegetarian after witnessing the death of a sheep on a local farm when she was eight. William and Hannah's mother, Allison, had thought it would be short-lived, but Hannah, stubborn as she was, hadn't eaten meant since.

He smiled affectionately at his daughter, who caught him staring. "What?" She asked, her mouth full of food.

He laughed. "Nothing, Hannah. Good food."

She laughed too, because he hadn't even picked up his fork yet.

Hannah spent the evening with what was left of her family. Cal was her twenty-five year old cousin on her father's side, whose parents had died along with Hannah's mother. He was like a brother to her.

Just before eleven, Hannah decided to go home. Cal and her Dad groaned, insisting that they would starve without her.

"Cal, you don't even _live _here!"

He lived in Grasmere, with his fiancée Laura.

"So?" He said shrugging. "Laura isn't a very good cook."

Hannah playfully smacked him around the head. Laura was a better cook than she was.

"I have to go, I have work in the morning."

William didn't say anything, but he sniffed loudly. Hannah knew he didn't approve of her job. He thought his daughter could do better than work in a pub, but if she was happy doing it, there wasn't much that he could say.

"I'll see you next week, Dad," She said, bending over and kissing him on the cheek.

"Bye, Han," He muttered as she stepped into the now green fire.

She was gone in a blur.

**Sorry about the change, guys! I kept thinking about the first chapter I wrote, and to be honest, I wasn't comfortable with straying from canon. Everyone knows that Hannah's mother died in _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince _, and to be honest, I just didn't like how Hannah's family turned out. They sounded far too Slytherin-ish! I much prefer this chapter and this analyzation of Hannah's family, and I hope you do too. Please review and tell me your opinion. Thanks!**

**Lily **

**x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The next morning was Saturday, so Neville slept in and almost missed breakfast. He arrived into the Great Hall just as the morning post arrived. Just as he was pouring himself a bowl of cornflakes at the breakfast table, a large white owl arrived at the table, swooping majestically down to land in front of him. Neville smiled at the bird, and offered it a piece of toast. In return, the bird dropped the letter, and Neville immediately recognized Harry's writing. He'd suspected as much - he was pretty sure that the Potter's had a white owl. He remembered Harry's love for his white owl - Hedween, Neville thought she was called - during their school days.

Neville opened the letter, spilling his cornflakes in the process. He quickly cleaned up the mess and proceeded to read.

_Dear Neville,_

_How are you? I hope you are keeping well, and I hope that our boys are behaving themselves in your classes._

_It's been a while since we met up (all of a month, according to Ginny, but it seems much longer than that) and since I'm in Hogsmeade today (Saturday) I was wondering if you'd like to meet up? James and Al have gotten permission from McGonagall to meet up with me and I would appreciate it if you could walk out with them. You know what young boys are like, so easily distracted…They'd probably wander into Honeydukes or something, and I wouldn't see them for the entire day! Three Broomsticks at twelve? Hoping to hear your reply ASAP,_

_Hope to see you soon,_

_Harry_

Neville smiled happily to himself. It was the second Saturday of the month, and he always met up with his grandmother on this day too, so he was getting all his visiting done in one go. He scribbled a reply to Harry on a scrap of parchment he found in his pocket, and watched as the owl vacated the Great Hall. Then, he reread his letter.

"Neville! I mean, Professor!"

Neville looked up from his letter.

"Morning, James," He said, smiling. James's warm brown eyes were full of mischief, and his red Weasley hair made him stand out in the hall. Though, Neville noted to himself, there were enough Weasley red heads in the school that it was very easy to get confused. From where he was sitting, he could see the red heads of many Weasley children, all of them situated at the Gryffindor table.

He could see Bill and Fleur's sons, Dominique and Louis, both handsome boys who'd inherited their father's red hair, their elder sister, Victoire, who was strawberry blonde, and as beautiful as her mother, Percy Weasley's fourteen year old twin daughters, Molly and Lucy, who were both vibrant red heads, and of course, Ron and Hermione's eldest child Rose, who'd inherited her mother's brains and prominent front teeth, and her father's hair. And next year, the Potter's daughter Lily would add to the mix.

"Did you get a letter from Dad then?" James questioned, nodding towards the letter that Neville held in his hand.

"Yes," Neville said. "I've to walk you and Al to the Three Broomsticks. Your Dad and I might have a drink."

James rolled his eyes. "You'd swear I was going to get _lost _or something."

"Mr Potter, you're lucky to be leaving the premises at all." Professor McGonagall interrupted, looking at James, severity in her expression. "Other than the fact that your father wrote to me and requested permission _especially_, you would not be leaving at all. And of _course_ you will be accompanied by Professor Longbottom."

James grinned at Professor McGonagall, not at all perturbed by her speech, or by the fact he had just been scolded by the headmistress.

"Alright, Professor. Where will I meet you, Neville? I mean, Professor?"

Neville was shocked that James was so cool about being told off.

"Um…" He said, trying to remember what he'd been asked. "Meet me in the Entrance Hall at half eleven, then."

"Rightio," James said, and he headed back towards the Gryffindor table, whistling loudly.

Both Neville and Professor McGonagall stared after him.

"The similarities between that boy and the Weasley twins is unnatural," Said McGonagall, shaking her head in amazement.

Neville laughed and turned back to his breakfast. McGonagall was dead on - James even had the same _grin _that the twins had had - the same one that George still had.

Neville finished his breakfast, and since he had an hour to kill before meeting the Potter boys in the Entrance Hall, he decided to take a walk around the grounds.

It was a clear, bright autumn day, only a week into September. The Hogwarts grounds still held small traces of summer - wild flowers were growing at the edge of the forest, and the air would occasionally quiver as an abnormally sized bee or wasp passed Neville.

Even more obvious were the signs of autumn, the signs that winter was coming. The deciduous trees that edged the forest were beginning to shed - leaves of auburn red and gold littered the forest, and made the occasional crunch as Neville stepped on a stray one. He knew that by mid September, the trees would be bare, and the grounds brightly decorated.

"Alri' Neville!"Neville turned around. Rubeus Hagrid was coming towards him, grinning.

"Hello, Hagrid!" Neville said, grinning at the huge man, who was smiling broadly at him, his beetle black eyes crinkled in his smile. "Enjoying being back to work?"

Hagrid nodded, still smiling. His wild hair and beard were beginning to grey severely now, but he looked as happy as he had always done.

"Sure, the school's dead quiet in the summer time, s'not natural!"

Neville grinned. He always stayed with his grandmother during the two months when Hogwarts was unoccupied by students, but Hagrid was one of the few teachers and staff who remained there all year round.

"Little Al Potter… not a bit like the other feller, is he?" Hagrid said, obviously comparing James and Albus.

"Not at all," Neville said. "I'm bringing them into Hogsmeade to see Harry today - I got an owl this morning."

"Harry? Really? Cheek o' him, I didn't get no owl!" Hagrid sounded indignant, but he was still smiling.

"Busy man, though, is Mr Potter," Neville said laughing.

"He is n'all…" Hagrid trailed off, looking thoughtful. "Don't seem like that long ago that I was takin' Harry in Diagon Alley for the first time. Only a little feller, he was. And you and all… lost your toad, din' you?"

Neville laughed as he remembered the trouble he had had trying to keep track of Trevor all the time.

"Yeah, you found him just as we got off the train!" Neville squinted as he remembered. "God, it seems so long ago."

"Does," Said Hagrid gravely. "Well, gotta be goin', I'm headin' over to tidy up around Professor Dumbledore." Hagrid indicated to the white tomb near the shore of the lake.

"See you, Hagrid," Neville said, but Hagrid didn't hear. He was already heading towards the tomb, muttering to himself.

"Great man, Dumbledore, great man…"

Neville turned around, and his eyes rested on the marble tomb of Albus Dumbledore - in his opinion, the greatest wizard who ever lived.

* * *

"I got detention," James grumbled as he and Albus greeted Neville.

"What for?" Neville asked, grinning at James's grumpy expression.

"Threw a piece of kipper at Scorpius Malfoy."

Neville fought hard to restrain a laugh, and almost failed. "Why'd you do that?" He asked, his tone flat in his attempts of not laughing.

"He was looking at me funny," James said as the three of them walked down the school steps.

"Dad's gonna be really chuffed." Said Al, his quiet voice rather sarcastic. "He warned you to leave Scorpius alone."

"Don't you dare say a word, Al!" James said, rounding on his little brother.

Albus shrugged. "He's probably going to find out anyway."

"I swear to Merlin -"

"James, that's enough," Said Neville, his tone slightly sharp.

Both boys shut up for a few moments, but resumed their chattering.

"He's so _slimy_, it's no wonder Dad didn't like his dad." James was saying, still talking about Scorpius.

"I have potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts with Scorpius," Al said. "I really don't mind him that much."

James scoffed, but didn't say anything.

By the time they reached the Three Broomsticks, James and Albus were in the middle of a fully fledged row.

"Shush," Said James abruptly, as they opened the door into the welcoming, but very quiet pub. "Dad."

However, Harry was not yet in the pub, so the boys resumed their bickering.

Madame Rosmerta, who had aged considerably since Neville's school days, peered over the bar to the two boys.

"They don't look like sixth years, Professor," She said. "And I didn't get any notice of an upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Come to that, they don't even look like _third _years."

"They've special permission from the headmistress, Rosmerta," Said Neville.

"Alright, then. Just don't want to be getting into trouble with Minerva. You know yourself." Rosmerta rolled her eyes. "Now what can I get you boys?"

"James, Al? Would you like a butterbeer?"

The boys nodded and grinned their thanks.

"Three butterbeers, please."

Rosmerta bustled off behind the bar. Albus was looking around the bar with interest.

"I've never been here before," He stated.

"I have," Said James, before glancing at Neville and flushing red. "I mean, I've been somewhere _similar _-"

"It'd be just like you to figure out the secret passages before I'd even shown you the map," Said a familiar voice.

"Dad!" James and Albus said in unison, and Albus stood up to embrace his father, not looking at all embarrassed. James however, shied away uncomfortably - something that surprised Neville.

"Harry!" Neville said enthusiastically, standing up and shaking hands with his friend.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said grinning.

"How're things?" Neville asked.

"Things are great. Anything new with you?"

Neville shook his head. "No. But I'm going to see Gran today," He said glumly.

Harry laughed. He knew all too well what Neville's grandmother was like.

"Boys, why don't you two take a wander up to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?" Harry suggested, handing the boys some money. George had bought what had once been Zonko's Joke Shop and had converted it into a second WWW. It had turned out to be a raging success, both in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade.

"Yeah!" The boys said enthusiastically, before running out the door.

"Boys been behaving themselves?" Harry asked, taking a sip of whiskey.

"Well, Al has," He said laughing.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And James?"

"Well, James is James," Neville said grinning.

"Meaning he's already gotten detention?"

Neville laughed again and held up his hands. "I'm not saying anything."

"What'd he do?" Harry said, a grin on his face.

"Threw a piece of fish at Scorpius Malfoy."

A strange look crossed Harry's face before he burst out laughing. "I warned him, but he just doesn't listen to a word I say! Draco'll be delighted when he gets a letter from his precious son…"

Neville and Harry spent over an hour doing what they always did when they got together - reminiscing.

When Al and James had returned, they listened to the conversation with interest for a while before becoming bored and engaging in a very noisy game of exploding snap. As the pub began to fill up for lunch, Madame Rosmerta's filthy looks became more and more frequent until Harry told the boys to shut up and Neville decided it was time to go.

"You okay to walk them back up to the school?" Neville said. "I'm heading over to Gran's now."

"Yeah, thanks Neville." Harry said. "I've to talk to McGonagall 'bout something anyway…"

"See you, Harry," Said Neville, standing up.

"Oh, Ginny said I've to ask you now, so that no one else does - will you come to ours for Christmas?"

Neville laughed. "Harry, it's September!"

"Yeah, I know! That's what I said, but she said ask anyway." Harry shrugged, obviously not getting why she'd ask so early.

"I'd love to come!" Neville grinned. "Gran won't be so impressed, but it saves me from having to go to Uncle Algie's!"

Harry laughed, and the two said their goodbyes. Neville headed outside to apparate just as Harry and the boys were ordering lunch. Neville watched them for a moment, and felt a pang of jealousy towards his friend. He really had everything… Neville knew he was incredibly lucky to have his job, and he _loved _it, but he couldn't help but envy Harry, who seemed to have everything - a great job, a gorgeous wife, three kids…

Neville shook his head and concentrated on apparating. He had splinched himself once before, and it wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat.

When he arrived at his grandmothers, the house he had grown up in, she immediately started fussing around him.

"Oh, Neville! Oh, good boy! Oh, I miss you so much when your gone!"

Neville snorted inwardly. His Gran had gone soft in her old age.

"I miss you too, Gran," He said, kissing her on the cheek and trying to pull off his cloak.

"I've cooked some tomato and basil soup especially for you, I know it's your favourite…"

"Thanks, Gran," Neville said, handing her the bunch of posies he had bought from the florists in Hogsmeade.

"Oh, thank you!"

Neville was really surprised. What was up with her? She hadn't been so nice to him since he had killed the basilisk during the war…

It soon became evident what had made her so happy.

"Neville, I have something to tell you," Mrs Longbottom started to speak just as Neville was dipping his bread into his soup.

"Yeah?" He said, his hand stopping mid-air.

"I - I've met someone."

Neville was so shocked that he dropped his chunk of bread. It landed on his robes and left a big red stain down his front.

"Oh - oh here, let me -"

"I can do it myself, thanks." Neville said rather sharply as he pointed his wand at his robes and muttered the spell so violently that his robes were smoking for a few moments after.

"His name is Paul Rewn."

"Jesus." Neville said.

"Language, please!"

"Sorry. That's great, Gran, I'm really happy for you. Look, I better get back to school."

"What - but you just got here!"

"I know, but I - I promised I'd give remedial classes to a student today. Thanks for the soup and everything."

He stood up and backed away from the table, droplets of sweat forming on his upper lip. The room was shaking slightly; he knew it wasn't a good idea for him to apparate but he _had _to get out of there.

"Bye, Gran," He muttered, and concentrating extremely hard on the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade, he disappeared.

* * *

**Apologies, apologies for it being so long! The winter is nearly here now, and I have lots more time to write and I fully intend to! I really hope you've enjoyed this chapter... Let me know what you thought of it! :) Press the review button...**

**You know you want to..**

**:D**

**Love, **

**Lily! X**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four - Hannah!**

Hannah slept in on Saturday morning, as she usually did. It was one of the good points about being a barmaid - her shift didn't start until one.

She had a quick shower, and had her very late breakfast sitting on her balcony. Diagon Alley was bustling as usual, and Hannah enjoyed speculating as she munched her toast.

When her breakfast was done, she headed down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Afternoon, Hannah!" Tom said from behind the bar. "Passing through?"

Hannah hesitated, confused. She glanced at her watch. It read twelve thirty. "Er, no, Tom, I'm here for work..?"

Tom looked surprised for a moment before realisation dawned on his face.

"You didn't get my owl?" He said, hesitating before picking up a rag and beginning to polish the bar.

"No," Hannah said, her voice faltering.

"I sent you one to tell you that you could have the day off… business is slow today."

"But it's Saturday!" As much as she hated to admit it, Hannah could hear the desperation in her voice.

"Yes, but it's been dead quiet since Hogwarts reopened. I'm serious, Hannah, you can take the day off." Tom's voice was warm. He felt he was giving her a big treat.

Hannah smiled weakly. "Thanks, Tom, that's really generous of you, but I honestly don't mind working."

"Hannah, it'd be a waste of your time. Take the day off, enjoy yourself. Visit your father or something."

She was not visiting her father, no way. She thought for a moment, watching the slow movement of Tom's hand on the bar.

"I think I'll go to Hogsmeade," She said, and she began to feel that having a day off might not be so bad after all.

"Good plan," Tom said, though he was distracted as someone passed through the pub.

"Thanks again, Tom. I'll see you later," Hannah said as she approached the large open fireplace. She took a pinch of floo powder from her snuffbox and threw it onto the orange flames. They immediately turned green, and Hannah stepped in, saying "Hogsmeade!" loudly. Before long, she had pulled to a stop and stepped out into the Three Broomsticks, feeling rather woozy.

It was approaching lunch time, and the warm pub was beginning to fill up.

"Hannah!" A voice she didn't recognize called her name. She automatically turned, and found herself looking at a grinning Harry Potter. Something in the pit of her stomach lurched nervously - she hadn't talked to Potter since their school days. She had seen him passing through The Leaky Cauldron, but he had always been too rushed to stop and talk.

"Harry Potter?" She said, and she smiled. Two young boys were sitting with Harry, and Hannah nervously smiled at them. One of them greatly resembled Harry, down to the wire framed glasses and the green eyes behind them, and the other strongly reminded Hannah of the Weasley's. These must be Harry's children.

"How are you?" Harry said, his voice enthusiastic and friendly. Hannah was surprised. Harry had never seemed particularly partial to her during school. Sure, she had been in the DA, and she had always had Herbology and Astrology with him, but that was all…

"I'm good, and yourself?"

"I'm brilliant! Have you met my sons?" Harry nodded at the two boys. "This is James" - the red-head - "And Albus." The boys nodded and mumbled hello. Hannah smiled at them. James and Albus. It figured.

"Hi, boys," Hannah said.

"Will you sit down?" Harry said, but Hannah hadn't come to Hogsmeade to catch up with old schoolmates. She wasn't exactly sure _what _she had come for, to be honest.

"I'm in a rush," She lied, "But it was brilliant to see you. And nice to meet you, boys."

"Bye," They mumbled, grinning awkwardly.

Harry said goodbye almost reluctantly - Hannah felt bad for having to "rush" off.

Hannah felt vaguely nostalgic as she wandered up the main street of the village. She had so many memories of walking up this street, usually with Susan and Ernie, and a few other of their Hufflepuff friends. She remembered the laughter they had shared, and how carefree their school days had been up until the death of Cedric Diggory. After that, everything had seemed to go downhill.

Hannah felt sad as she remembered the ginormous crush she had had on Diggory for those four years, and how his death had affected her, even though she had never been close to him. She felt even sadder when she remembered being pulled out of school when she was sixteen, and being told that her mother had been killed, by none other than Voldemort's Death Eaters. Her throat began to close up even just thinking about it, just like it always did whenever her thoughts veered in the direction of her Mum.

She exhaled loudly and concentrated on the clear blue sky. It was mild, but there was definitely a sharp nip in the air, a sure sign that winter was on the way. Hannah decided to stroll up towards the Shrieking Shack - she hadn't been there in years.

As Hannah passed the post office, she heard a loud crack coming from a nearby alleyway. It startled her so much that she let out a not-so-quiet yelp. Thankfully, no one was close enough to have heard. The crack was followed by a series of short gasps, and Hannah felt alarmed - was someone having a seizure or something? She stood at the corner of the alleyway, half afraid to look down. The gasping continued and Hannah started to feel worried. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the corner.

A man was sitting on the floor of the alley, his back against the wall. His head was in his hands, and from the way his shoulders were quivering, Hannah could have sworn he was crying. Afraid to leave in case he really _was _having a seizure, Hannah called out tentatively.

"Er… Sir? Sir, are you okay?"

The man didn't respond, and Hannah took a apprehensive step into the alleyway. She spoke louder this time.

"Sir?"

The man made a motion with his left hand, indicating that he was alright. Hannah wanted to leave, but some emotional tug in her chest told her that she should stay. She took a few more nervous steps until she was leaning against the wall opposite from the man. She stood there for a few moments, watching his form.

The man let out a loud groan, and lifted his head slightly before rubbing his eyes. Hannah felt slightly alarmed. He was obviously rather distressed. Should she run and get help..? Something told her no.

She crouched down on her hunkers, now only about a foot away from the man. She reached out and gently patted her shoulder, before shaking her head.

What was she _doing_? This was so unlike her… Normally Hannah was very good at staying out of other people's business, but something told her this was different…

The man finally took a great shuddering breath and looked up. Hannah toppled over on her heels.

"Neville Longbottom?" She said, astounded.

Neville looked mortified, and his cheeks darkened slightly. "Hullo, Hannah Abbott," He said glumly.

"I - I don't - are you okay?" She was lost for words.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Wouldn't mind a drink. Will you join me?"

"What?" Hannah was startled.

"I said, do you want to go for a drink with me?"

Hannah was so taken aback that she agreed without even thinking about it. She took Neville's hand and helped him up.

She automatically started heading towards The Three Broomsticks.

"Not there," Neville mumbled. "I don't want…"

Hannah understood. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. He was a bit of a mess, actually. His thick dark hair was sticking up haphazardly, and while his face was deathly pale, his eyes were red rimmed. His robes were badly in need of an ironing, and in truth, he looked so down that Hannah nearly felt depressed just looking at him.

"The Hogs Head, then?" Hannah asked.

Neville nodded. Hannah was once again overtaken by an almost motherly feeling, and she took Neville's elbow and began to lead him up the street. It suddenly struck her how strange the situation was; she hadn't seen Neville Longbottom in about ten years easily, and all of a sudden, here she was leading him up Hogsmeade main street with a firm grip on his arm!

Neville didn't seem too bothered - in fact, he hadn't taken much notice of anything at all. His eyes were trained on the ground, and he was dragging his feet almost wearily. Hannah wondered what had happened to make him so depressed.

When they reached the Hogs Head, Hannah laughed out loud. It looked the exact same as it had the last time she had been in it, which was just after she had left school. The same weather-beaten sign hung over the battered door, creaking spookily in the wind, the tables and chairs were in the exact same position, a smell of goats still lingered in the air, and the bartender was standing in the exact same place - something that sort of freaked Hannah out. She was almost positive that he was holding the same cleaning rag, but she couldn't be one hundred percent sure.

"Hello, Professor," The bartended called. "What'll it be?"Hannah looked around for a moment, wondering who he was talking to.

"Me," Neville croaked, answering Hannah's silent question. "He's talking to me."

Neville was a _professor_? It was the first Hannah had heard of it.

"Two Firewhiskeys," Hannah said firmly to the bartender. She glanced at Neville, and he didn't argue.

She steered him over to a filthy table, and sat him down. A few moments later, two glasses of amber liquid were plonked on the table.

"Thanks, Aberforth," Neville muttered, before picking up his tumbler and downing the contents in one go. Hannah picked up her own glass and took a sip. The liquid slid down her throat easily, spreading heat through her body. She then handed her glass to Neville, who gulped its contents as well.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?" Hannah asked. She was curious.

"One minute," Neville said. "Aberforth, two more Firewhiskeys."

The barman brought them over immediately, and Neville drank one of them before starting to talk.

"I'm a loser," He said, and his voice slurred slightly - the alcohol was already taking its toll.

"What? No, you aren't!" Hannah said.

"I am," Neville insisted. "My grandmother has a boyfriend."

Hannah snorted, but Neville didn't see the hilarity of the situation.

"It's not funny," He mumbled, and his eyes brightened, as if with tears. But he couldn't possibly be _crying _- he was a grown man, for heaven's sake.

"I'm sorry," Hannah said, embarrassed to have been amused at all.

"S'ok," Neville said, drinking the last Firewhiskey. "I'm a loser."

"No, you aren't." Hannah replied matter of factly.

"I am," Neville said, and he sighed miserably. "I've never had a girlfriend."

Hannah was astounded. She raised an eyebrow at Neville. He caught her eye and shrugged.

"Well, not one that mattered. I've never had anyone I really cared about." Neville's voice was slurring and his eyes were slightly glazed - he was already drunk. He ordered three more Firewhiskeys, and drank two of them in quick succession.

Hannah's chest filled with a feeling - understanding. She understood completely. She had had boyfriends, but there had never been anyone she had truly loved.

"Either have I," She said, and her voice sounded strange, as though she had just had a sudden realization. Neville looked up at her.

Hannah looked back at him, and she smiled. He smiled back, and then put his head in his arms, shut his eyes and began to snore. Neville obviously wasn't very good at holding his drink.

Hannah watched him for about fifteen minutes, before she gently woke him up. The barman told Hannah that Neville was a live-in professor at the school, so Hannah paid him and then walked Neville up to the school gates. He was quite drunk, even though he'd had just six Firewhiskeys. Hannah wasn't sure whether she trusted him to walk up to the school on his own, and was relieved when Hagrid came whistling up behind them.

"'Lo," He said cheerily. "I recognise you. Aren't you - _Neville_?"

"Er…" Hannah mumbled, glancing at Neville, who was muttering to himself while stumbling around a bit.

"Is he drunk?" Hagrid asked.

"Just - just a little," Hannah said, embarrassed.

"What 'appened?" Hagrid asked, looking concerned.

"He - he had one to many Firewhiskeys," Hannah replied.

"At _lunch _time?" Hagrid said, astounded.

"He was… thirsty?" She said, and Hagrid laughed.

"I'd better take him to my house, let him sleep it off. Wouldn't be good for any of the kids ter see 'im like this."

"No," Hannah said. "It wouldn't."

Hagrid stepped forward, picked Neville up as though he was as light as a child, and gently slung him over one shoulder.

"Fanks, Hannah.." Neville mumbled, his eyes closing.

"Yup, thanks, Alanna. Was good ter see you again," Hagrid said, waving a large hand as he started up the long driveway.

Hannah stood by the hog-flanked gates and watched Hagrid's large figure retreat up the driveway. For some reason, she felt like crying. She had come to Hogsmeade to enjoy herself, but instead she had bumped into an old schoolmate, and got him drunk.

Yay Hannah.

Way to go.

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_**Please review! :D I'll update faster! :D**_


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